


Spice

by the_inked_quill



Series: Of Flame and Valor [3]
Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Fingon has a sweet tooth, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Gen or Pre-Slash, M/M, Maedhros is secretly amused, SO MUCH FLUFF, Sorry Not Sorry, Valinor days, cinnamon, pseudo-Quenya
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-03
Updated: 2014-07-03
Packaged: 2018-02-07 08:44:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1892613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_inked_quill/pseuds/the_inked_quill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Perfect moments like these were never meant to last.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Spice

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry, just indulge me because I had to write some fluff after all this angst. So I was thinking about cinnamon, and how it's such a pretty russet colour like Maedhos' hair, and spicy like fire - and this happened. Here's some happy Russingon in Valinor, complete with sugar and spice!

“Hey, Russo! Don’t you want to try some of these?” Findekáno held out a small paper cone filled with squares of pastry, dusted with a fine, reddish powder.

Maitimo looked at the parcel dubiously. “What are those - _things?_ You know I am not overly fond of sweets, Finno.”

“Don’t be a bother, Russ. I just bought these from one of the vendors in the square. A new recipe, supposedly. And of course I wouldn’t dream of having any without giving you some.” He dipped his finger into the reddish powder, which was liberally mixed with sugar, and made a great show of licking it off. 

“Mmmm… these are _spicy_ and sweet at the same time. Please, Russo, try one?”

 Maitimo rolled his eyes in mock annoyance at his younger cousin, hiding a smile at Findekáno’s antics. “Very well, but you know I have a report due tomorrow for Atar, as well as a council session this afternoon.” He reached toward Findekáno, letting his arm rest on his cousin’s a fraction longer than necessary before taking a pastry out of the paper cone. Deliberately, he bit off a corner and chewed it for a moment.

“I suppose these are satisfactory. A most intriguing taste. What did the vendor say this spice was?” Maitimo barely restrained himself from ruffling his cousin’s unruly black locks, reminding himself that Findekáno was no longer the elfling that followed him around like a loyal puppy. And now, blithely eating pastries until his mouth was smudged with sugar and russet-red stains, his gold-bound braids shining in the light of Laurelin, Findekáno had never looked more perfect.

“Hmm…” Findekáno managed in between bites, “It’s supposedly made from the bark of some newly-discovered tree, from the lands to the South...I think he called it _úrumalo*_ , fiery-powder, though that’s a bit of a misnomer. But, Russo, it matches the colour of your hair!” He grinned lopsidedly at his cousin, who merely arched an eyebrow in response.

“Have you ever thought, Russo, if everyone’s fëa had a taste, what would it be? I don’t know, there are moments when I think Turukáno’s would be, um, plain like bread left out too long in the pantry, but this - this _úrumalo,_ it’s exactly how I imagine you!” Findekáno took another bite of a pastry, smiling playfully at his older cousin.

“And why exactly are you comparing me to a spice? It’s not as if you could taste fëar, so why are you saying this?” Maitimo jostled Findekáno in the side and reached for another one of the spiced pastries.

“Well, first of all, it has nearly the same colour as your hair, but also, it’s like…” Here Findekáno trailed off for a moment, “You know how food without salt and spices would be bland? You’re the spice that makes my life _not_ bland, Russo. Wherever you are, and whenever I’m with you, life is so much more _vivid._ ” Momentarily uncomfortable under Maitimo’s intent gaze, he ducked his head and polished off another pastry. 

“How many of those have you eaten, Finno? Are you sure the _úrumalo_ has no hallucinogenic properties?” Maitimo poked his cousin in the ribs good-naturedly. “I never took you for a philosopher, Finno. But if I’m the spice, what does that make you? The sugar?” 

“Heh, hardly. But really, Russo. I can’t ever imagine a time in my life when I didn’t find life infinitely more appealing with you. You showed me so much, helping me with my lessons, taking me out for rides on your horse when I was too small to ride on my own, and so much more than I could name. It’s only fair that I should show you something new, too.” He picked up the last pastry and thrust it toward Maitimo. “Here, have the last piece, since I’ve been so much of a pig.” 

Maitimo took the sweet and carefully broke it in half, handing a part back to his cousin. “I think it is only fair that we share, as we have always done,” he replied with a smile. Looping an arm around Findekáno’s shoulder, he smiled down at his cousin, who was grinning at him with a sunny smile. As Findekáno took another bite, sapphire eyes glowing with happiness, Maitimo could not help but wish that they could stay like this, together, until the end of time.

**Author's Note:**

> * from urúva - "like fire" and malo - "pollen, powder"


End file.
